


Life and Loves

by Wednesdayschild (sheraiah)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheraiah/pseuds/Wednesdayschild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love triangle, Middle Earth style! This was a fic exchange story from many years ago. Not pairings that I would normally write, but lots of fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life and Loves

Title: Life and Loves

Author: Wednesdayschild

Pairing:  Erestor/Glorfindel, Erestor/Thranduil  
   
Rating:   NC-17  
   
Request/plot: angst, a forbidden love affair, strong sensual Erestor. One of them is already in a very committed relationship with another (even married, though less than bonded) and they realize that they are indeed soul mates. I would love to see what someone could do with this.   
   
Do not include: no heavy BDSM, no weird play. No vampires 

Summary: Erestor and Thranduil are involved in a long-term relationship when Erestor meets Glorfindel. 

Warnings: m/m slash, oral and anal sex, descriptions of the aftermath of war

A/N: A lot of my personal fanon for Thranduil comes into play in this fic. Tolkien himself says very little about Thranduil, so we are left to make our own suppositions. I wrote this as a series of scenes over a large portion of Erestor’s life. Hopefully, I’ve achieved the effect I was going for. Also, I am a sucker for an eventual happy ending, so be warned. Just an FYI, it is slightly AU in places.

 

~

 

Erestor hid a smile, amused at the differences in his charges; so alike in appearance, so different in temperament. The younger twin had taken to his studies like a duck to water, showing a marked preference for history and lore while the elder twin lived for arms practice. In that, as well, they were as different as night and day; Elros’ preferred style being direct and having more to do with strength and speed than finesse while Elrond was swift, agile, and quick to find and exploit an opponent’s weaknesses. Just now, Erestor stood out of their line of sight watching covertly as Elros did his best to tempt his twin into mischief.

 

“Elrond, have you not studied enough for one day? We must be away now, before that awful Brethilrif arrives.”

 

“Oh, very well! You will give me no peace until I agree to whatever harebrained scheme you are planning. Besides, Brethilrif is a horse’s arse and I would as soon avoid him,” Elrond stated calmly, closing his book and placing it in its proper place on the shelf.

 

“Horse’s arse, am I? You little mongrels, get out of this library and into the stables where you belong!” The twins’ eyes widened and they beat a hasty retreat in the face of the furious elf’s advance.

 

“May I suggest, Brethilrif, that it is unwise to alienate someone who may one day become very powerful?” Erestor moved from his place of concealment into the other’s line of sight. “There is power there now, in both of them. You may regret your manner towards them one day, and it certainly will not please the king when he hears of it.”

 

“No, I imagine it would not, coming from you. Why do you bother with them, Erestor? What power was in that bloodline was spent with Elwing and Earendil. You waste your time currying favor with them when they will amount to nothing.”

 

“I disagree, and even if I did not the High King has charged me with educating them. I find them to be delightful children, and a blessing to spend time with. It is a great pity that you cannot see beyond the end of your nose at what is plain to everyone else.” He smiled coldly. “Good day to you, Brethilrif.”

 

~

 

Erestor had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. He was willing to bet that Brethilrif did indeed regret antagonizing the twins, even as he doubted that the elf would learn to guard his tongue in future dealings with them. In truth, he was mildly surprised that Elrond, who had borne the brunt of Brethilrif’s bile, had been as tolerant as he had for so long. Not that he would ever admit it to either twin, but he had to admire both their creativity and the timing of their prank. Brethilrif smelled like a privy and his clothing, his best dress robes, were fit only for the midden heap and on the eve of the reception for the remaining kin of Elu Thingol, save for Elrond and Elros.

 

As the group, minus a seething Brethilrif as he had gone to bathe and change clothing, took their seats at the table Erestor saw Elrond shoot a covert grin at one of the king’s guests. Curiosity got the better of him and he followed the elfling’s gaze, just in time to see one of the guests wink in response to Elrond’s grin. The elf in question was young, past his majority but not by more than a handful of years if Erestor was any judge, still in that coltish, unfinished stage between numerical maturity and physical maturity, but strikingly beautiful already. Valar, but he would be stunning when he was fully-grown! So this was Elrond’s other accomplice, Erestor mused, half his attention on the king’s speech while the other half was firmly focused on the young elf. 

 

He was as tall as the dark haired elf seated beside him, and bid to be broader through the shoulders and chest when grown. But, instead of the obsidian locks common to most elves, like Erestor himself, this elf’s hair was the shade of molten gold. Even as young as he was, he already radiated power. This was no elf to be underestimated or trifled with, even now. Erestor found himself looking forward to Gil-Galad’s tradition of serving wine in the courtyard after dinner while his guests mingled and enjoyed the musicians’ efforts.

 

~  
“Greetings, Master Erestor,” Elrond said as Erestor approached the alcove where the elfling sat conversing with the young elf his tutor had been observing during dinner. “This is Thranduil Oropherion. He was of some assistance to Elros and I earlier.” 

 

“So I saw,” Erestor replied, amusement patent in his tone. “Greetings, Lord Thranduil. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His amusement grew as he noted the flush that crept up Thranduil’s ears. However, the young elf managed to maintain his composure beyond that and answered with flawless courtesy.

 

“Master Erestor is my tutor,” Elrond supplied, glancing up at his new friend. “He is quite a good one, not at all boring.” Thranduil’s lips twitched.

 

“One should not be a tutor if one is a boring tutor,” he replied, straight-faced.

 

“I agree,” the elfling said. “I am very glad that the king did not choose Brethilrif. Peeling paint is more interesting than he is.” Erestor heard Thranduil mutter something that sounded suspiciously like ‘the horse’s arse’ and had to bite the inside of his cheek again. “But Master Erestor makes the histories come to life. Even Elros listens to him.”

 

“Thank you, pen neth. It is always gratifying to hear that one is appreciated,” the tutor said mildly, smiling at his charge. He turned his attention on the king’s guest. “Lord Thranduil, are you enjoying your stay?”

 

“Yes, thus far. Adar and I arrived late yesterday evening.” He smiled a wry smile. “I have seen the city from the road coming here, and our rooms and the gardens, nothing more.”

 

“That will have to be remedied. I am certain the king will see to it,” Erestor said, returning the young elf’s smile. He carefully restrained himself from deepening his smile when Thranduil blushed.

 

~

 

“Master Erestor, how are you faring these days?” 

 

Erestor turned, not recognizing the voice of the one hailing him and stared. “Lord Thranduil? Valar, but you’ve changed since last I saw you!”

 

“For the better, I should hope,” the younger elf replied, grinning. He had, in the years since the reception, put on both muscle and confidence to become one of the most attractive elves Erestor had ever seen.

 

“You look well. Are you traveling with your father again?”

 

“Adar and Naneth both,” Thranduil replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Adar is still in search of a purpose, and Naneth did not wish to be parted from us again.” He shrugged expressively. “And I go where Adar does.” He shifted the pack he was carrying. “How fair your pupils?”

 

“Pupil, singular. Elros’ talents lie elsewhere, so he has been assigned another tutor. Elrond will be disappointed that he was not with me, he has fond memories of you.” Erestor found himself rather distracted by the sheer physical beauty of the elf before him and fought to maintain his dignity. He would never have acted on his desires the last time he had been in Thranduil’s company because although the other elf was of age he had been still, in Erestor’s opinion, too young. Now, however, was a different story.

 

“As I do of him,” the golden-haired elf replied, a twinkle of wicked humor in his gray eyes. “Tell me, how fares Brethilrif these days?”

 

“As crotchety as ever, unfortunately,” Erestor said with a chuckle. “I do not think the three of you improved his sense of humor at all.”

 

“What a pity,” Thranduil remarked, patently unconcerned for Brethilrif’s state of mind. “I expect I shall see you this evening as Naneth, Adar, and I are attending a reception in the high king’s home.”

 

“I look forward to it,” the dark-haired elf said, smiling as serenely as he was able.

 

“As do I,” his companion replied, shifting his burden again. “Forgive me, but I must go or I shall never hear the end of it from my Naneth. She is waiting for this.” He held up the pack he was carrying. “Until tonight, Master Erestor.”

 

“Until tonight, Lord Thranduil.”

 

~

 

Erestor walked the garden path listening to the night noises, both natural and otherwise, around him. The garden’s many alcoves were popular places for lovers to steal a few kisses, and often more than kisses, during the high king’s receptions. He needed a few moments out in the cool evening air to compose himself. To his frustration, he had been unable to converse with Thranduil at all at dinner or after. The young Sinda had been besieged with admirers, female and male alike; from the time he had entered the king’s home. The more persistent and the more forward, he had sent packing quickly much to Elrond’s amusement. Evidently, young lord Thranduil was not one to suffer fools easily.

 

His ears alerted him to the fact that he was approaching another elf on the path. He debated for a moment about stepping off the path and walking around but he decided that it was not worth the effort. He rounded the corner to see the very elf he had been wishing to encounter, however, Thranduil’s attention was not on the path behind him but rather on one of the less-sheltered alcoves off to the left. Erestor grinned wickedly at the sight of the young elf watching the couple in the alcove. He had no doubt that the sight was proving to be rather .. uplifting... for his young acquaintance. Stealthily, he moved along the path until he was close enough to smell the fragrance of Thranduil’s hair.

 

“Shame on you, pen neth,” he whispered into the younger elf’s ear, quickly clapping a hand noiselessly over his mouth to stifle his cry of surprise. “Of course, they are very inspirational are they not?” He could feel the heat of the blush that suffused Thranduil’s ears, face, and neck, but the blond elf turned his head to meet Erestor’s eyes directly, gently grasping his hand and drawing it away from his mouth.

 

“Yes,” he replied, his voice remarkably steady. “They certainly are.” Thranduil fused his lips with Erestor’s, catching the dark-haired elf off guard enough that he gasped, providing the golden-haired kinsman of Thingol the opportunity to swirl his tongue around Erestor’s as he turned his body to press full-length into the other elf’s and wrapped one arm firmly around his waist. His other hand, releasing Erestor’s, wound into the older elf’s ink-hued locks. 

 

Erestor’s hands came up, one arm sliding up over Thranduil’s chest to encircle his shoulders, his other hand stroking over his forehead, down the high cheekbones to the jaw line and up to trace the younger elf’s ear. Thranduil moaned into his mouth and pressed tighter against him, deepening the kiss even further. Finally, the need to draw breath forced them to part.

 

“Do you know how long I have wished to do that?” Thranduil asked, panting. “Since I first saw you the first time I came here.”

 

“Why did you not approach me then?” Erestor nuzzled the ear he had caressed a few minutes earlier, making Thranduil gasp softly.

 

“My lack of years,” the golden haired elf stated bluntly. “I knew that my Adar thought me too young to consider such things then, and I thought perhaps that you would as well.” He chuckled. “And if I am truthful with myself, I would say that both of you would have been correct.” He drew a fingertip down Erestor’s cheek. “That is not the case now. I know what, and who, I want.” He flattened his hand against the small of Erestor’s back, pressing their groins together. “I would say, by the feel of things, that my attentions are welcomed, yes?”

 

“Most definitely. I thought to approach you tonight,” Erestor conceded, smiling. “The question now is how far you wish to take this.”

 

“I would say that the question is: who will do the taking?” the younger elf countered. He traced Erestor’s lips with the tip of his tongue. “Or, who will do the taking first?”

 

~

 

The years passed, and Erestor looked forward to seeing his young lover as often as Thranduil could manage to come to Sirion. They were discreet in their affair by necessity. Thranduil’s sire disapproved strongly, and while he did not forbid his son to see his Noldor lover, he made sure to let both of them know in no uncertain terms that he would not consent to a binding. Thranduil, normally eager to meet and exceed his father’s high expectations, stubbornly refused to be cowed by Oropher’s censure, though he stopped short of outright defiance. 

 

In the end, Erestor supposed that this was in part the reason behind Oropher’s decision to move East over the mountains. He was certain that Thranduil’s father believed that putting distance between his son and Erestor would cause the affair to cool. However, from the tone of Thranduil’s frequent letters, the tactic was not working as his father wished. Time passed, and he saw Thranduil only infrequently, but when they were together they more than made up for the years spent apart. 

 

Eventually Oropher, along with his wife and son, ended up among the Silvan elves of the great forest beyond the Misty Mountains and Erestor was unsurprised to hear from Thranduil that the Silvans had decided to make Oropher their king. Even though Erestor was technically at odds with the newly crowned king of the Greenwood, he admired the elf and believed that he would be worthy of the trust that had been placed in him, especially with his son steadfastly by his side.

 

Thranduil’s visits became more and more infrequent, although the feelings between them had not waned, due to Thranduil’s new duties. Erestor found himself at loose ends, Elrond having long passed his majority and Elros having chosen to cleave to the fate of Men. He taught no longer, but rather took Brethilrif’s place in the library, the other elf having been reassigned out of proximity to Elrond once the peredhel had passed his majority and become Gil-Galad’s herald.

 

~

 

“Ah, Erestor, thank you for answering my summons so promptly,” the high king said, smiling pleasantly. “Please, come sit and have a glass of wine with me.”

 

“It would be my pleasure, sire,” Erestor replied, accepting the glass of wine that had been placed in front of him. The servant who had poured the wine then bowed to the high king and departed. “How may I serve you?”

 

“Erestor, I am sending Elrond east to establish a new city. Suffice it to say that he has foreseen that this will be necessary and I have learned to trust his foresight. I would ask that you accompany him as one of his advisors. You have a keen grasp of politics and history, and a very quick mind. He will have need of that.” Gil-Galad grinned. “Besides which, this would put you in much closer proximity to a certain Sindar prince.”

 

“Sire, you need not sweeten the charge further. I would be honored to go.”

 

“Good, I was hoping that you would agree. Elrond asked for you specifically, and again, I have learned to trust his judgment.” He drained the wine glass, and Erestor did likewise. “Make what arrangements you need to. You will be leaving with Elrond in a month’s time.” Erestor rose, bowed, and saw himself out.

 

~

 

Erestor set the last crate of books on the cart and swiped his forearm across his brow. Across the cart, Elrond shot him a sympathetic look, having just set down a heavy burden himself. 

 

“That is the last load, I believe,” the peredhel said, lifting his dark tresses off the back of his neck for a moment. Erestor smiled back at him, thinking that Elrond was off to a good start as leader of this new community. His willingness to perform any and all tasks that were expected of the other members of the company had dispelled the vast majority of reservations that some of the elves had about this young, half-elven lord.

 

“Yes, we should be able to leave within the hour,” Erestor replied, tying down the cart’s load and securing an oiled leather cover over the precious cargo of books and scrolls.

 

“As soon as Glorfindel joins us, yes,” Elrond responded, tying his side of the cover tightly. “You will like him, Erestor.”

 

“I am certain I will if he is as devoted to you as I have been told.”

 

~

 

 

Erestor shut the flap of the tent he was living in and flopped gracelessly down on his makeshift bed. He draped his arm across his eyes, in a vain attempt to shut out the world. 

 

Elrond had been correct: he did like Glorfindel. ‘Be honest, Erestor,’ he thought glumly. ‘It is far more than liking. And therein lies the problem.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘I should eat something, but that would mean crossing the camp and I do not think I can face him just now, craven that I am.’ He sighed and levered himself back onto his feet. ‘I have little choice if I wish to be able to work on the morrow. And in any case, I have never allowed myself to wallow in self pity.’ He lifted the tent flap and set out in the direction of the cooking fires.

 

“Erestor, a word, please?” 

 

Steeling himself, Erestor carefully schooled his expression before turning. “Of course, Lord Glorfindel.”

 

“Erestor, please, titles are unnecessary between friends.” The golden-haired elf frowned slightly. “At least, I believed we were friends. Was I mistaken?” Erestor closed his eyes, silently counting to ten.

 

“We are. I am sorry, Glorfindel. My weariness is affecting my temper. What did you desire to speak about?”

 

“You intend to eat now, yes? I also have not yet had my evening meal. Let us speak over dinner.”

 

~

 

The food was long gone, and still Glorfindel spoke of trivialities, Erestor mused, his face pleasant mask. ‘Valar, if he does not get to the point soon I shall have to throttle him.’

 

“How goes the construction of the library? I have been occupied elsewhere and have not seen it in the last few days,” the golden haired elf asked, setting his cup aside.

 

“Glorfindel, at the risk of appearing rude, what exactly are you dancing around?” Erestor pinned him with a look and he shifted uncomfortably before loosing a resigned sigh.

 

“It seems to me that you are avoiding me. I would like to know why.”

 

“Glorfindel, I…..” Erestor raked a hand through his hair. “It is not you, my friend. Truly it is not.”

 

“If not me then what? You call me friend, and I thought perhaps that we might be more than that, but now I am not certain.” The expression on his face betrayed the depth of his frustration, and a good measure of hurt. 

‘Ai, what a mess! Erestor, you are a fool.’ He raked his hand through his hair again.

 

“Glorfindel, we are friends and I wish I could offer you more than that, but I cannot. As I said, it is not you; the difficulty lies with me.” He rose hastily. “I must bid you good night.” Glorfindel’s hand shot out, catching his wrist.

 

“Have I a chance at all with you?”

 

“If I were not already involved, yes.” Erestor beat a hasty retreat.

 

~

 

“Beautiful, is it not?”

 

Erestor looked out at the lights of Imladris twinkling in the dusk and silently agreed with Elrond. On the half-elven lord’s other side, Glorfindel echoed Erestor’s sentiments aloud.

 

“You have done far more than the king charged you with here, Elrond. You, Erestor, and everyone else have not just built a city, you have built a haven.”

 

“And it will be needed,” Elrond said, sighing. “All too soon, I fear.”

 

“Let tomorrow come tomorrow. For tonight, enjoy what we have done here,” Erestor said, giving his pupil-turned-friend a half smile, which Elrond returned.

 

“My dear Erestor, that is very good advice. The meal will be on the tables soon, and I have been told that some rather good wine arrived earlier from across the mountains.” He arched a brow at his former tutor and Erestor chuckled.

 

“The wine may be nominally from Oropher, but you may be certain that Thranduil was the one who made the selection if indeed the wine is, as you say, rather good. Oropher has turned out to be quite a good king, but his taste in wine runs toward swill at best, horse piss at worst.” He grinned at Glorfindel’s wry expression. 

 

“That sounds like something Thranduil would say,” Elrond remarked, his expression patently amused.

 

“It is almost a direct quote,” Erestor confirmed, laughing.

 

“I thought as much. Prince he may be now, but he is still the blunt-spoken elf who helped Elros and I settle the score with Brethilrif all those years ago,” Elrond opined, chuckling.

 

“I believe I would like to hear that story, my friends,” Glorfindel stated, following them from the balcony towards the dining hall.

 

~

 

 

‘Thranduil does indeed have excellent taste in wine’ Erestor thought woozily as he made his way down the hallway that seemed to tilt under his feet towards his room. He stopped, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes in an attempt to regain his equilibrium.

 

“Erestor, are you unwell?”

 

Erestor opened his eyes blearily, blinking at the sight of two Glorfindels. The blond elf reached out, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Sighing, Erestor leaned into the half-embrace.

 

“Here, let me get you to your rooms.” Glorfindel began to move the two of them down the hall, not entirely steady on his own feet. “How many glasses of wine did you have?”

 

“No more than you did, I think.” Erestor frowned. “I lost count. We were shelebrating…Celebrating after all.”

 

“Fortunately, Elrond is either much better at holding his wine than you are, or he had the sense not to drink his own weight in it and has retired to his rooms on his own, freeing me to assist you to yours.”

 

“Rot, you’ve had as much as I,” Erestor retorted.

 

“Easily, but it does not affect me in the same manner that it seems to be affecting you,” the newly named Captain of the Imladris guard challenged back as they reached the door to Erestor’s room.

 

“Oh, really? And how, pray tell, does it affect you?” Erestor asked haughtily as Glorfindel leaned him up against the wall as he closed the door behind them. He was too impaired to see the flare of mingled anger and desire in the other’s eyes until Glorfindel had pinned him against the wall.

 

“Like this,” the golden-haired Vanya said, fusing his lips to Erestor’s as he pressed the full length of his body against the stunned advisor. 

 

Erestor’s senses were overwhelmed by the feel, smell, and taste of the elf he wanted in spite of himself, the wine he had consumed destroying his inhibitions. Moaning, he clutched desperately at the battle-hardened frame against him. His sex had gone hard almost instantly and he rocked his hips into Glorfindel’s feeling as much as hearing the blond’s groan.

 

“You taste so good!” he moaned into Erestor’s neck as he nibbled and licked his way down it. He forcefully parted Erestor’s robe, baring his chest. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing a pebbled nipple.

 

“Oh, Valar, please…..” Erestor gasped, his fingers convulsing on Glorfindel’s upper arms. “Please!” He felt the muscles under his fingers tense and suddenly the room spun around him and he was laying on a soft surface with Glorfindel atop him, lips on his again.

 

“Not going to take you, nor you me. Not like this,” Glorfindel was saying against the skin of Erestor’s collarbone. “We both need relief, but not that way. Not drunk.” He licked up to an ear, drawing a long moan. “Other things we can do.”

 

The lovely mouth moved down Erestor’s chest to his belly and he gasped as a tongue circled his navel. He felt a tugging at the laces of his breeches and then cool air on his arousal, followed by wet, molten heat. Throwing his head back he arched into the mouth that enclosed him, one hand tangling in golden tresses as his hips began to move of their own volition. His other hand fumblingly unlaced Glorfindel’s breeches and began to stroke his member. Moaning, head tossing back and forth on the coverlet, he felt his release building until, like a wave upon the shore it broke over him, leaving him near senseless in it’s wake. He barely registered Glorfindel’s climax as the darkness swallowed him.

 

 

~

 

Erestor felt warmth on his face and frowned. Why was it dark? Belatedly, he realized that his eyes were closed and opened them, shutting them almost immediately with a groan.

 

“Here, drink this. You will feel better,” a familiar voice said, as gentle hands raised him to a sitting position and the rim of a cup was placed against his lips. Obediently, he drained the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste. His companion kept an arm around him, supporting him as he waited for the tea to take effect. After a few moments, he was able to raise his head and open his eyes. Glorfindel gazed solemnly back at him.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“Yes,” Erestor sighed, the memory of the night before flooding back to him. “We do.” He sat up fully, pulling his torn robes around him, and eased off the bed. “I will only be a moment.”

 

“I will be here,” the Vanya said, moving from the edge of the bed to one of the two chairs at the small table near the window. 

 

A short time later Erestor emerged from the bathing chamber, hair damp and dressed in a clean tunic and breeches. He crossed to the table and sat down across from Glorfindel.

 

“I did not think to ask earlier how you are feeling this morning. You had as much to drink as I did last night.” Erestor met the guard captain’s eyes steadily.

 

“I am seldom unwell from over-indulging. Worry not for me,” Glorfindel said quietly, his manner much subdued. “Erestor, I fear I have wronged you greatly.” Erestor shook his head.

 

“There is enough of that to share, I am afraid.”

 

“I am the one who took advantage, not you,” Glorfindel stated, his expression one of regret and no little shame. Erestor sighed heavily, looking at his clasped hands, which rested in his lap. It was time for unvarnished truth.

 

“After last night I think it is perfectly clear that I feel the same way towards you that you evidently do towards me. You did nothing that I did not welcome, rest your mind on that score. I only wish things were that simple, but they are not.” He raised his eyes again. “I told you the last time we spoke of this that I had a lover.” Glorfindel nodded. “We have been involved for several centuries now, however we have always been very discreet because his father does not approve of the relationship.”

 

“Thranduil.” He paused, biting his lip. “Erestor, do you love him?”

 

“Yes, but not as I love you.” He sighed heavily again. “And that is our other problem.” Glorfindel’s eyes closed in an expression of deep pain.

 

“Have you spoken of bonding?”

 

“No. He loves me, but he is not willing to go against his father’s wishes to that degree.” Erestor raked a hand through his still damp locks. “It is a very complicated situation.” He fell silent, allowing Glorfindel to make the next move. He did not have to wait long. Glorfindel stood and walked around the table to kneel beside him. Reaching out, he took Erestor’s hands in his.

 

“You are the other half of my soul, Erestor. I want nor will I have any other.” He kissed both the hands he held reverently. “Neither will I press you. Just know that I am yours, body, heart, and soul, whatever you decide to do.” He stood, stooping down momentarily to press an almost chaste kiss on Erestor’s lips before leaving the room without looking back. Erestor closed his eyes, tears welling up behind the closed lids.

 

~

 

Erestor settled into a guarded camaraderie with Glorfindel. The Vanya was as good as his word and did not press his suit, although Erestor could see the hurt the effort caused him in the elf’s pale grey eyes in brief, unguarded moments, although Glorfindel did his best not to burden him with the knowledge. 

 

They, together with Elrond, built Imladris into the haven that Elrond and Gil-Galad had envisioned while in the East, the dark lord grew in power. Messengers sped back and forth between the lands held by men and elves and talk of war was soon on the lips of all. 

 

With the unrest affecting the Greenwood as much as any of the elven realms, Thranduil’s time was spent in defense of his adopted people, and even his letters were infrequent but as warm as ever when they did arrive. Erestor gave no hint of his turmoil over his feelings for Glorfindel in his replies. Some things could not, should not, be said except in person.

 

~

 

“The king has decided: we shall march to war at the end of the month and rendezvous with Gil-Galad’s army as well as Elendil’s in Lorien. Oropher’s army will also meet us there and together with the army of Lothlorien we will march on Sauron’s forces at Dagorlad.” Elrond’s expression was grim, and Erestor wondered what the peredhel had seen, but knew from long experience that Elrond would speak of it only after his vision had come to pass.

 

“Who will hold Imladris while we are away?” Glorfindel asked calmly.

 

“Other than you and Erestor, the rest of the counselors are staying. They will hold the valley until we return, or until the last elf has fled for the Havens if we fail to defeat Sauron.”

 

“We have much to do. I will go make certain that we have enough provisions for the march,” Erestor said, inclining his head to both Elrond and Glorfindel, meeting the latter’s eyes for a long moment before passing through the door.

 

~

 

Erestor paced the confines of the tent, too keyed up to rest, even though he knew he needed to with what was to come in the morning. More even than the usual unease of a warrior on the eve before a battle, his conversations with Elrond and with Glorfindel earlier in the evening had him unsettled.

***

 

“Erestor, how much does Oropher heed his son’s thoughts?” The question startled Erestor and he leveled a searching gaze at Elrond.

 

“Nowhere near as much as he should,” the advisor replied. “Thranduil may be relatively young, but he has an astute grasp of strategy and the nature of others.” Elrond sighed.

 

“I feared you would say that.”

 

*

 

“Erestor, I have something I wish to say to you,” Glorfindel said, his usually cheerful expression even more solemn than the upcoming battle should have made it. Erestor nodded, placing an encouraging hand on the Vanya’s forearm. They seldom touched each other, for fear that it might tempt them further than either could endure, but on the day before a battle of this magnitude any and all comforts were welcomed. “I understand that you cannot speak to Thranduil of our feelings for each other, nor would I wish you to, under the circumstances. If we all survive this, it there will be time to speak of it then For now, do what you must, say what you must to comfort you both.”

 

Words failed Erestor then, but Glorfindel evidently understood that as well, for he had embraced him tightly and kissed him thoroughly.

 

“We cannot make love, but oh how I wish we could,” Erestor whispered, returning the kiss with all the passion he felt for the golden-haired elf in his arms. “If I do not survive, I will besiege Namo until he releases me and I will wait for you in Valinor, I swear it!”

 

“As I will for you, and if we both perish we will meet in the Halls and scandalize everyone there!” Glorfindel grinned at him. “But, I believe we will survive.”

 

“I will try to see you again before the battle but if I do not: know that my heart is yours.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Glorfindel’s trim waist and kissed him breathless. When they parted, he laid his hand along the blond elf’s cheek for a long moment. With a last, brief kiss, Glorfindel passed through the entrance to Erestor’s tent and into the deepening evening.

***

 

Erestor paced the length of the tent again, stopping when he heard his named called from beyond the entrance to the tent.

 

“Come in.”

 

A blond head peeked around the flap of the tent. Erestor smiled and held out his arms. “Thranduil! I have missed you.”

 

“And I, you,” the prince of Greenwood said, wrapping his arms around Erestor’s waist and burying his face in the dark haired elf’s neck. “I have not long before I must return to my father’s tent, but I needed to see you.”

 

“I am here, meleth.” Erestor hugged him tightly. It seemed to him that Thranduil needed comfort far more than anything else and the younger elf’s next words confirmed his guess.

 

“Adar’s argument with the high king concerns me, Erestor. His temper has not cooled, and he refuses to listen to anyone’s counsel, least of all mine. I fear where this may lead us.”

 

“Your adar is a good king, meleth.” He smoothed the fine golden mane back from Thranduil’s high cheekbone. “Not even the wisest of us can say what will happen on the morrow. Elrond says that the high king holds no anger towards your adar, and you know you may trust his word.”

 

“Has he said aught else?” Thranduil asked. Erestor knew full well that Thranduil was aware of Elrond’s gift of foresight, and that the Sindar prince possessed a bit of the ability himself. He chose his next words carefully.

 

“You know that he does not speak of what he sees out of turn so as not to unduly influence future events.” His voice was even and calm. “To do so would be to risk the wrath of the Valar.” ‘If things go ill tomorrow, the son should not have more cause to regret his actions’, he thought. Thranduil sighed against him.

 

“I know, I had hoped….never mind, love. It was unfair of me to ask you.” He sighed, nuzzling back into Erestor’s neck.

 

“Have you seen anything?”

 

“No,” Thranduil replied with a humorless laugh. “What little foresight I have comes when it will and most often comes not at all. My talents lie elsewhere, and there are not trees enough here to aid me much.” He lifted his head, his eyes revealing the pain and fear he would not voice. “Adar knows my abilities well. Were we in the woods, he would heed me over even the most senior of his counselors. I had hoped that Elrond had mentioned something. Adar may scoff at his talents in public, but in private he knows Elrond sees truly.” He squared his shoulders. “No matter, Adar will do what he will and I go where he leads.” 

 

He leaned in and fused his mouth with Erestor’s momentarily startling the older elf. Erestor gave himself up to the kiss, his tongue dueling with Thranduil’s and his hands roaming over his lover’s back and shoulders. The prince pulled back and gave him a sensual look, eyes half-lidded.

 

“Would that I had time for more than a soldier’s quick grope!”

 

“Like this, you mean?” Erestor stroked him through his breeches and Thranduil rocked into his hand with a growl.

 

“Adar can wait for awhile, I think,” he said decisively, a wolfish grin on his face. Erestor drew his tongue lightly along the curve of his lower lip and pulled him towards the pallet, readily providing comfort of a more physical kind. He did indeed love Thranduil, even if it wasn’t the soul consuming love he felt for Glorfindel, and only the coldest, most unfeeling elf would send a soldier to his possible doom without what comfort he could give. 

 

~

 

Erestor had heard the expression ‘rivers of blood’ before, but never had he thought to see it in reality. Valar, but this was more blood than he had thought existed in the whole of Arda. He waded through it, finding the wounded and assisting them as he could until they were borne off to the healers and dispatching any foul creature he found that still breathed.

 

He had been fortunate: his few wounds were minor. He had lost sight of both Glorfindel and Elrond during the battle, finding the latter among the healers shortly after the fighting had ceased. Glorfindel he had not yet seen, although Elrond assured him that he had and that the Vanya’s wounds were also slight. He had heard and seen nothing of Thranduil, but judging from the number of Silvan warriors he had found that were either beyond his aid or mortally wounded, he feared for the prince.

 

He had just carried a heartbreakingly young Silvan archer who had been stabbed through the shoulder and then trampled to the healers when he heard his name being called. He turned, scanning the rows upon rows of wounded his eyes finally lighting on a filthy, blond figure heading towards him.

 

“Glorfindel!” The Vanya embraced him, hard, before looking him over minutely. “I am well enough,” he said, waving aside the other’s concern wearily.

 

“I rejoice to see it,” he replied, embracing Erestor again. “Dear friend, the news I have for you is hard.” Erestor stared at him, his breath catching in his throat.

 

“Thranduil?” Glorfindel shook his head.

 

“No, he lives.” Erestor closed his eyes briefly in thanks before Glorfindel continued. “He is wounded, but will mend in a few days. No, it is Oropher I speak of. He is dead, as are most of his counselors. Come, you can use my tent to clean up a bit. It is closer than yours, and Thranduil needs you soonest.”

 

~

 

‘Too many years and far too many losses,’ Erestor thought as he walked back to his tent from Elrond’s. ‘Oropher dead and Thranduil left with a third of his army. Elendil gone, and Islidur left in possession of Sauron’s ring. That will come back to haunt us, I am certain. Would that he had heeded Elrond and destroyed the vile thing! Lorien without it’s king, and worst of all the high king dead and Elrond left to pick up the pieces. We cannot rightfully call this a victory, if one ever could.’ He sighed, lifting his face to the sky and closing his eyes. ‘Valar, but I am weary!’

 

He opened his eyes and continued walking towards his tent, thankful that it was over for now. He lifted the flap of his tent and stepped inside, stopping short just inside the flap at the sight of Thranduil sprawled in his pallet and so deeply in reverie that his eyes were mere slits of white. Erestor’s expression turned from shock to one of sorrowful compassion and he crossed the distance between them quickly to sit by the younger elf’s side.

 

“I know not how you managed to slip away from your guards, meleth, but rest you now for as long as you can.” He stroked the tangled strands of golden hair away from the younger elf’s face before getting up to light a fire in his small brazier and setting a pot of water on to boil. He walked to the entrance of the tent, sticking his head out to see if he could find a suitable messenger. Spying one of the younger of the late high king’s guard he beckoned the elf over.

 

“Know you the way to the Greenwood camp?”

 

“Aye, Lord Erestor. I have friends there,” the young elf answered readily.

 

“Would you take a message there for me?”

 

“Of course, Lord Erestor.”

 

“Go and find the highest ranking counselor left and kindly let him know that his king is in council here in our camp and will send for his guards when he is ready to return to his own camp.” The guard visibly stifled a grin.

 

“Right away, my lord. If they have a return message I will bring it here.”

 

“I thank you,….?”

 

“Estelion, my lord.”

 

“Thank you, Estelion.”

 

~

 

As Erestor set the tea he had made aside to steep, he heard Thranduil stir on the pallet behind him. Looking up, he met a pair of alert eyes, the color of a stormy sea.

 

“I am sorry of I woke you. I was trying to let you rest as long as possible.”

 

“You have my thanks, but there are matters I must see to now.” Thranduil rose, stretched like a cat, and crossed the open area between them to sit opposite Erestor, his expression solemn. He looked down for a moment, visibly ordering his thoughts before he spoke. “My dearest Erestor, you will never know how much your love and support have meant to me during this ordeal. When Adar was killed, I thought for a while that it might be the end of me as well. I have you to thank for helping me past my grief.”

 

“You have done as much for me as I have for you, meleth,” Erestor replied, cupping Thranduil’s cheek in his hand. The king of Greenwood the Great leaned into the caress for a moment before straightening.

 

“However my grief, and my heart as well, must not interfere with the needs of my realm.” He sighed and gave Erestor a weary and sorrow-filled smile. “The Greenwood lost far more warriors than it could afford to. We must go home, rebuild, and repopulate our realm. And that includes Greenwood’s king.” He met Erestor’s eyes, his mouth set in a determined line. “As much as I cherish you, I must marry and sire heirs.” Erestor made no reply; he merely scooted around the brazier and drew Thranduil into a tight embrace, which the king of the Greenwood returned in full measure. 

 

At length, Thranduil released him and sat back, his mouth quirking into the wry smile that was by far Erestor’s favorite of the expressions that crossed the younger elf’s face, and the least seen in recent years.

 

“Erestor, I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me that you put me and my needs before the needs of your own heart.” Erestor started, staring at him and the smile deepened. “I am far from blind, dearest friend. I have seen how you and Glorfindel look at each other when you think no one can see. It is plain to me that you hold each other’s heart. Even if I did not need to marry, I would never stand in the way of that.” He stood and bent to drop a kiss onto Erestor’s lips. “Tell that Vanyar elf that if he causes you a moment’s pain, I will break all four of his limbs.”

 

~

 

Erestor was still seated by his brazier, his tea forgotten, when Glorfindel entered his tent some while later. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and leveled a searching look onto the dark haired elf.

 

“What has happened?”

 

“Thranduil came to see me. He is preparing to leave for home soon.”

 

“He is not waiting for the rest of the armies to leave?”

 

“No. He said that they must go back to the Greenwood and rebuild and repopulate.” He looked up at Glorfindel for the first time since the golden haired warrior had entered the tent. “He said that as much as he loves me, as king he must marry and sire heirs.” Glorfindel dropped down to sit next to him and pulled Erestor into his lap, cradling him in his arms.

 

“I am sorry, love.” Erestor nestled into his embrace, resting his head on his shoulder.

 

“He knew, Glorfindel. He gave us his blessing.” Glorfindel stared at him, and Erestor laughed. “He said to tell you that if you hurt me, he would break both your arms and legs.”

 

“I think I will be safe from that threat,” Glorfindel said, kissing Erestor’s brow. 

 

Erestor looked up at him and their eyes met. Suddenly he lurched up, kissing Glorfindel hard. Hazily, it occurred to him that they needed to wait, but he tossed the thought aside quickly. He was done with waiting and denying what he and Glorfindel both wanted! Frantically, they stumbled to the pallet, practically shredding each other’s clothing in an effort to remove it. Erestor pushed Glorfindel onto the pallet on his back, straddling him and latching his mouth onto one of the Vanya’s nipples.

 

“Gods, yes!” Glorfindel groaned, both hands tangling into midnight tresses as he arched up to meet his lover’s mouth. “Do you have…?”

 

“Oil? Yes.” Erestor rolled off him and grabbed for his pack, upending it and tossing items aside until he saw the small bottle. “Here.”

 

Glorfindel poured a small amount of oil into his hand and wrapped it around Erestor’s arousal, stroking firmly and causing the dark elf’s eyes to roll back in his head with pleasure. Reaching between his own legs he stretched himself while Erestor watched, stroking himself lightly.

 

“Now, need you now,” Glorfindel moaned, wrapping his legs around Erestor’s waist. Slowly, he eased into the golden warrior’s tight opening, groaning as he was fully sheathed. He stilled, breathing hard, to allow Glorfindel to adjust to his girth but Glorfindel was having none of that and tightened his legs, pulling Erestor even closer. Surrendering, he began to move. Soon they were moving furiously in the most primitive of rhythms. Erestor forced himself to focus long enough to take his lover’s member in hand, stroking him in time to their thrusts. Glorfindel keened, his body tightening around Erestor as he reached his peak. Erestor followed, throwing his head back and biting his lip to keep from screaming his pleasure. Slowly, he collapsed onto his lover’s chest, Glorfindel wrapping his arms around him and smoothing his damp hair away from his face.

 

~

 

 

Epilogue

 

Glorfindel watched his mate pace the length of the chamber they had been shown to upon their arrival in Greenwood, an amused expression on his fair face.

 

“Meleth, you will not hurry things by wearing a path in the floor,’ he said chuckling at the sheepish look Erestor gave him. “It will take as long as it takes.”

 

“I know, but Thranduil is worried and I cannot help it.”

 

“It is Thranduil’s place to be worried. You, however, should come over here, sit down, have a goblet of this fine wine that has been provided for us, and relax.” He arched a brow at his dark haired spouse, smiling when Erestor sat beside him, accepting a goblet of the wine. “As I said earlier, Elrond has everything under control. There would be a great deal more scurrying around were that not the case.”

 

“I know. I am trying to relax.”

 

“Do not try to do it; do it. Thranduil is my friend too, and you do not see me pacing about like a caged warg.” Erestor shot him an affronted look that Glorfindel answered with a peck of a kiss to the end of his nose. Erestor elbowed him lightly in the ribs before settling down into the crook of his arm.

 

They had emptied their goblets and Erestor was about to suggest that he refill them when the door at the far end of the room opened to reveal a radiantly smiling Thranduil holding a swaddled bundle in his arms.

 

“Dearest friends, come meet my son, Legolas.”

 

 

The End


End file.
